For the Master Was
by Inspired Demon of Fiction
Summary: PRE-EoT, IMMEDIATELY post-WoM with minor spoilers for the following trailer, maybe, if you squint… The Doctor's sleep is troubled. My take on the events following Waters of Mars. Ten/Simm!Master
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** For the Master Was

**Author:** Demon

**Rating:** T+

**Warning:** PRE-EoT, IMMEDIATELY post-WoM with minor spoilers for the following trailer, maybe, if you squint…

**A/N:** I brought comfort!Master with me today. Comfort!Master is a mythical creature invented by unhappy fangirls. From what we can tell, comfort!Master is a mutation of Simm!Master, _sans drums_, and with a penchant for Doctor-y things. I brought him to remind me that failing Stat right now would not be the end of the world. He plans to end the world at half past four tomorrow. It's been nice knowing you .

* * *

1-2-3-_4_, 1-2-3-_4_, 1-2-3-_4_

The Doctor wrestled with his sheets, his sleep corrupt and fraught with terror.

1-2-3-_**4**_, 1-2-3-_**4**_, 1-2-3-_**4**_, and _laughter_.

Terrible laughter. The laugh of a man he _knew_ was dead. It couldn't be…

The Doctor shot up in bed, panic stricken and sweating. Round and round about his head spun images of Mars, of what he'd done, of sounds, the gun, his own voice, and now, the _drums_…

He clutched at his sheets, but the room was silent, the whole TARDIS was silent, there was only the sound of his own guilt, in his head…

He lay back down, breathing heavy. He couldn't sleep, but he couldn't do anything either without seeing the blood on his hands. Like Lady Macbeth… That's what he was a… a… _murderer_. Tears filled his eyes and he closed them, wishing desperately for sleep.

**1**-2-3-_**4**_, **1**-2-3-_**4**_, **1**-2-3-_**4**_ louder, and the _laughter_, closer than it was before.

The Doctor screamed and pulled the covers tight over his head, trying futilely to make it go away.

**1-2-3-**_**4**_**, 1-2-3-**_**4**_**, 1-2-3-**_**4!**_HA HA HA HA!

The Doctor leapt out of bed, grabbing his sonic screwdriver. He shone its blue light on everything, but nothing; there was nothing out of place. Then a crash, above him. He ran out to the control room looking for something, anything, to prove it'd been real. He searched the whole floor, nothing, but then another crash from below, his room again. What was this? Some horrible avenging time angel sent to torment him? "…we're fighting _time_ itself… AND I'M GONNA WIN!" his words echoed horrifically in his mind. Had he _really_ believed that? Fighting time… he sounded like… like…

The laughter got louder and _louder_ as he got closer to his room, inside his room, and now it sounded like someone standing beside him…

"The law of time are _mine!_ AND THEY WILL OBEY ME!"

The Doctor collapsed in the dark and foreboding TARDIS, blind and deaf to his struggles.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaim-y waim-y**: Forgot to mention that last chapter, didn't I? Oh well... I own nothing, if I did, EOT would have ended with the Doctora nd the Master skipping over the rainbow and living happily ever after with LUCY IN THE SKY WITH DIAMONDS! XP (Sorry for the mood breaker...)

* * *

He reopened his eyes in darkness, but not the familiar darkness of the TARDIS, this was a different darkness; one much less friendly and much more cold.

He gasped, or tried to, but found he could only move his eyes. And his eyes, slowly readjusting to this blinding darkness, told him that he was not alone. There was a man, a _dead_ man, sitting in front of him, with that _smirk_ on his face…

The man's grin spread as he saw the Doctor realizing who he was, the pain, the _anger_, the inability to understand how; he started to laugh. The same laugh the Doctor had been hearing.

"Hello Doctor," the man eventually said, standing up. He turned to the side, as if peering at something, "Tell me, Doctor, have you been _missing_ me lately…?"

His laugh started to bubble up again as he could feel, in the darkness that enclosed them, the Doctor straining against his bonds, his _fury_…

He turned back to the Doctor, his laugh dying away. He looked different from when the Doctor last saw him. He was wearing the same suit still, but his chin had become stubbly and his eyes… there was something behind them that seemed to have completely snapped, and it _scared_ the Doctor.

He held the Doctor's gaze for a moment and saw something well up deep inside them… something inside the dead man reacted to it, but… god, the DRUMS! He couldn't hear what it was… he shook his head and turned away again.

"So, the Time Lord Victorious, eh? I wonder where you got _that_ one…" he grinned, sidling very close to the Doctor, laying a hand against the wall beside the Doctor's head and leaning on it.

The Doctor glared at him, a hundred different things running through his mind, why couldn't _he_ hear them?

"So… you tried to control time and failed. You hand-picked who would live and who would die. You _forced_ someone to commit suicide. And all in the name of _good_," he smirked at the Doctor, in a very painful way, "Not even _I_'m that sick."

The Doctor's veins were starting to pop out where he was straining hardest to be set free. The muscles of his jaw worked vigorously to make just the smallest sound, but his lips were clamped shut and tight by some invisible force.

"Something to say, Doctor?" he put his ear close to the Doctor's mouth, "Sorry?"

The Doctor would have given anything just to stamp on his foot.

He stood back and undid the spell on the Doctor's mouth.

"_Master_," he croaked from the sudden rush of air escaping from his lungs.

The Master smiled, "That's right… say my name, Doctor, say it again."


	3. Chapter 3

"So you did this… YOU DID THIS TO ME!" he tried to lunge at him, but couldn't budge an inch. His words should have echoed a hundred times, giving them both a headache, but the room was dead, it absorbed all sound, giving the silence the prickling feeling of being listened to.

The Master was cackling at him, looking him straight in the eye, "_Me?_ I'm DEAD Doctor!" he grinned maniacally.

The Doctor glimpsed that snapped look again; it made him flinch in terror.

"Everything that happened, _you_ did yourself… and you sounded _so_ like me…" he almost purred, walking up to the Doctor and stroking the side of his face, "I could almost be proud, except…" he dropped his hand, "you've never known your place, have you Doctor? You should have left." He said coldly.

The Doctor couldn't believe what he was hearing, the Master, the _Master_ was lecturing HIM about morality? About knowing his place?

"I was trying to help!" he shouted, needlessly since he was still barely two inches away.

The Master slapped him across the face before he finished, "No. You are _here_, imprisoned by your own guilt, and _you_ get to listen for once," he snapped, sounding completely lucid in a way the Doctor hadn't heard him speak in a very long time.

"You knew better than to do all that… leave the messing of time lines to me, at least when I do it I _know_ what I'm ruining," the Master cocked his head, "But still… such _power_ in you Doctor, such a _thirst_ to _control_ things…" he leered at him, leaning closer.

The Doctor glared at him, but the sickening feeling of truth swept over him, "I'm _nothing_ like you," he hissed.

"Oh, we've always been _far_ closer than you'd care to admit, Doctor," the Master was so close their bodies were just touching in a maddeningly enticing fashion, "far…" he breathed in the Doctor's ear as one hand trailed up his thigh, "_closer_."

He briefly pulled the Doctor's earlobe into his mouth as his wandering hand grazed its destination, in that same irritatingly enticing way. The Doctor trembled under the bonds that held him, but not from trying to force his way out of them.


	4. Chapter 4

The Master pulled away, leaving a small gust of cold air where his body had been. The Doctor gasped reflexively, _oh_ this wasn't fair… this was cruel… this was _exactly_ the sort of thing the Master would do.

The Doctor recovered himself, filling with rage once more, "I don't know what your game is, but you can't keep me here forever."

"I haven't done anything," the Master smirked.

The Doctor just stared.

"Those bonds are your own invention. I told you, this is your own guilt boxing you in…" his smirk thinned and became smug, "I just snuck in through your subconscious…"

The Doctor shook his head, consternated, "So you're not… you're real?"

The Master didn't exactly respond, "Is anything real?"

The Doctor squinted, "…what?"

The Master grinned again, eyes sparkling, "You have a curious conscience Doctor… your guilt eats away at you like a slow burning virus, but it allows me here."

The Doctor frowned again, but drew back slightly, "What do you mean…?"

"Well…" the Master strolled closer again, "I can either be your _comfort_," in a breath he was at the Doctor again, lips almost grazing his. The Doctor tried to turn his head away, but couldn't without kissing him.

"Or your _torture_…" His hand shot swiftly between the Doctor's legs and squeezed.

The Doctor's face contorted in pain.

The Master laughed softly, gently stroking, coaxing the Doctor's face into the peaceful state of a near delirium and then backing away again.

The Doctor swallowed, trying to erase any trace of hoarseness from his voice, "How… how did you get in? You said my subconscious… how?"

The Master's smile became sardonic and he looked away again, "Questions, Doctor, will only get you punishments," he threatened in a sing-song voice.

The Doctor swallowed again, determined, "How?"

The Master's face darkened, "I don't want to answer questions…"

The Doctor was going to demand he answer him, but in a flash, the Master had seized upon him, no more teasing, it was a real, full-on make-out. _God_, his lips, his _tongue_…! It was seconds before the Doctor fully realized what all his nerves were telling him. The Master jammed him against the wall, one leg between his, and his hands: one digging into his hair as his intense kisses became harder and stronger, longer and fiercer as the Doctor started to respond, desperate for the connection they had once shared. The other busied itself ripping his shirt out and running under it, claiming everything he touched.

Part of the Doctor wanted to run away. Part of him remembered that this was wrong, and more importantly, it wasn't real. That he shouldn't be making himself feel better by burying his feelings of self-loathing in sex with the Master. But it was a very small part and the rest of him was so desperate to have the Master back, to let the Master erase all his troubles, wipe his conscience clear, if only for a few blissful moments when they were one, an all-powerful, never-ending creature. It had been so long since they'd shared that.

He was right, he _had_ been missing him… he _always_ missed him, deep in his subconscious, the only other Time Lord left, the consciousness that understood his own, the mad, megalomaniacal mind that shocked and adored him… The Doctor felt a tear leak from his eyes as he struggled to free a hand, just to hold him close, and never let go again.

"Shh, Doctor, shh," the Master whispered, pulling away to gently wipe the tear aside, "It'll all be over soon…"

The Doctor sunk into the comfort of the Master's arms. Torture? Never, he was _comfort_… but, wait, _what_ had he said? What _was_ that…? Where was he? What was going on?

The Doctor opened his eyes: he was lying at the foot of his bed on the TARDIS. Numbly, he climbed back into bed.

And cried.


End file.
